


Depths

by hausofgaunt



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Horcruxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hausofgaunt/pseuds/hausofgaunt
Summary: Little Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop were never quite right after their adventure with one Tom Marvolo Riddle. Here we find what exactly happened that fateful evening.





	Depths

**Author's Note:**

> Please review!

The sky was a dull grey to match the dull mood of the children trudging though wet mud. A low flog had begun to permeate through the seaside village, prompting the already annoyed Mrs. Cole’s mood to sour further.

“Children!” she hollered over the grunts and moans of her horde, “Get in line, now, the last thing I need is one of you slipping off and away into the ocean!” One of the older boys, snickering, shoved his younger brother sideways. The smaller boy stumbled in the direction of the shore before righting himself and glaring viciously at his sibling.

Tom Riddle followed quietly in the line behind, silently watching the waves crash against the cliffs on the other side of the ocean. It was clear that a storm was approaching.

“Who’d miss us, anyway,” said Billy Stubbs morosely. He was covered in muck up to his ankles from lifelessly dragging his feet as he had been wont to do for the past few weeks. The children nearest him eyed each other nervously and appeared to unanimously decide that the best course of action was to pretend they hadn’t heard him. It was common knowledge in the orphanage that his rabbit Blinky had been found hanging from the rafters, a most peculiar and unsettling turn of events, and that he had been quite distraught over it ever since.

Tom waited for the pointed looks and was not disappointed. A few of the children in his year had been in the hallway to hear Billy taunting Tom a mere few days before his rabbit had departed this world. Billy had accused Tom of stealing his harmonica, which of course Tom had done, but he would not dare admit it. Tom had politely reminded Billy that he was utterly tone-deaf and that any sane person in hearing distance of him screeching away on that twig could have taken it. Billy had gone to fetch Mrs. Cole and three days later Blinky was gone.

Tom could vividly picture the last few moments of the rabbit’s life. He had approached this task with the same methodical coolness as he did in his schoolwork – a level of detachment and experimental curiosity that belied his ruthless interest in the animal’s death. For as long as he had been alive, Tom had always wondered what it would be like to die. His life was defined by death – his presence in the orphanage was a daily reminder of that fact.

The rabbit had choked and scrabbled uselessly in the air before Tom had finally cracked its neck.

It seemed painful to die, and embarrassing. Tom wondered if all beings experienced death in the same way. Humans, surely, with their vastly superior intellect and wide array of skills, should be able to combat death accordingly. He recalled his mother who had died unremarkably in a run-down orphanage. He observed Dennis Bishop tripping over a rock in front of him and pointedly decided that even in humans there must exist some level of disparity.

Dennis got up quickly, covered head to toe in brown apart from the bright red flush of his cheeks. He looked around wildly before coming face to face with Tom, who stopped in his tracks and stared back impassively.

“You pushed me!” he declared, pointing his finger in Tom’s face. The surrounding children stopped to watch.

“I haven’t touched you,” Tom replied in a measured tone. “It isn’t my fault that you can’t walk on your own two feet.”

Amy Benson, who had been walking beside Dennis the whole trip, giggled despite herself. Dennis’s eyes flashed between her and Tom angrily. “You did push me, I know you did! Trying to look tough in front of Amy, are you?”

“I don’t care what Amy thinks, nor do I care to look tough in front of any of you,” said Tom. He began to step forward but stopped when Dennis did the same. The surrounding crowd of children began to fidget nervously as Tom’s eyes narrowed impatiently.

“That’s why you go ‘round offing innocent bunnies, then, isn’t it,” Amy announced in her pompous, high-pitched voice. She crossed her arms, clearly offended that Tom didn’t seem to worship her judgment as so many of the other boys did. Dennis quickly moved to cross his arms as well.

Tom glared at the two huffing children before him. If he had truly wanted to “look tough” in front of the group he would have smashed Dennis’ head against the cliffs in the sea, although why on earth he would bother to do so escaped him.

The crowd began to lose interest and filter forward as Tom did not retaliate again. Dennis and Amy, however, stood stock-still in front of Tom in a brazen attempt to bar his path considering their petite sizes.

“You’re just a nasty little boy,” Amy stated matter-of-factly. “Isn’t he, Dennis?”

Dennis, who appeared to gain more confidence by the second, grinned wickedly. “It’s no wonder,” he said, “you’ve just got a bad attitude. That must be why no one’s wanted you.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” Tom retorted, beginning to truly lose his patience, “we’re all in the same place. Or did you crack your head on the ground just now and mash your little brain in?”

“Yeah, ‘cept we all have no family and you do,” Dennis said loudly. “How’s that work, Riddle? You’re the only one that’s got a dad living ‘round the corner and _you’re still here_. Bet your mum offed herself when she’d seen what a useless sod you were—”

Amy’s smile faltered as she saw Tom’s fists tighten. Dennis was oblivious, too caught up in his rant against Tom’s family to notice. She anxiously watched Tom’s face contort in fury for a breadth of a moment before blanking completely. She’d seen that look before, right before bad things had happened back at the orphanage. She nudged Dennis urgently whispering _Stop!_ but he blazed on relentlessly.

Finally, Tom cocked his head and Dennis cut off mid-sentence.

“I want to show you something.”

Amy wasn’t sure if it was the utterly dead tone of Tom’s voice or the cold breeze that suddenly appeared to ghost over their faces that drew chills across her body. She made to move backwards but found herself frozen to the spot and the fear began to pound throughout her body.

“We don’t want to see anything you’ve got Riddle,” Dennis stated, looking entirely confused. He couldn’t seem to move much and Amy was twitching ever so slightly in her spot. He couldn’t hear any noise but the waves, either.

“That was not a request,” Tom replied, and he turned to walk in the opposite direction of the village. Dennis and Amy both found themselves capable of movement again, and yet strangely compelled to follow.

The three children walked in silence along the shoreline. A light drizzle of rain began to pour in earnest and yet Tom continued to walk. Neither Dennis nor Amy could see his face. Dennis’ heart began to pound as he realized this was becoming a dangerous situation. He turned to look at Amy, whose face was white as chalk.

“Riddle,” he pleaded, his voice dying in the wind. “Tom!” he tried again louder, but Tom ignored him completely.

After a few minutes of walking, Tom turned abruptly toward the sea. Dennis could hardly see above the mist spraying haphazardly from the shore, but upon squinting he could make out a dark brown shape moving listlessly in the froth. Tom was striding determinedly toward it and the children felt no choice but to follow.

Again Dennis inclined his head toward Amy. All of her arrogance was dissolved in the rain. Her blonde curls were plastered heavily to her face and her chest heaved back and forth, back and forth, no doubt just as terrified as he was.

Tom finally turned around to face them as he stood near the brown shape. Dennis could now clearly make out the outline of what must have been a fishing boat at some point. The frame was certainly there, but multiple planks were adrift nearby or else lost out to sea. Despite the situation, Dennis wondered how they had not noticed the boat when they passed this spot earlier.

“Where are we going?” Dennis asked nervously. Amy opened her mouth but she could not manage a sound.

Tom glanced up in the direction of the cliffs in the sea across from them. “I should like us to see those cliffs,” said Tom.

He motioned the two children to climb into the boat with him, which began to move forward almost at once. Dennis and Amy sat paralyzed in fear as the boat seemed to direct itself forward along the choppy water. Tom sat in front of them, facing the cliffs without a single sound. Dennis’ mind had gone completely blank but for the thought that he was glad he could not see Tom’s face at this moment.

Thunder suddenly cracked across the wind and Dennis was able to turn his head to see the massive wave set to crash over them, and Tom whipped his head round to gaze at the towering wall of water but his gaze was not of fear but of curiosity and the wave thrashed into the boat and Amy’s bloodcurdling screams echoed into the sky.

Suddenly they were sat upon the cliffs, drenched to the bone but alive. Amy was prostrate on the ground bawling without restraint and Dennis could feel the sharpest pain in his chest as if the air was being sucked right out of his body. Tom stood above the two of them and Dennis was disturbed to see that the pale boy was bone dry.

“Please,” Dennis croaked as Amy inhaled a sharp, stuttering breath, “please, we won’t tell Mrs. Cole, I swear I’ll leave you alone. Please, Tom, I want to go home!”

“We have no home,” Tom intoned. He glanced forward and Dennis followed his gaze to another large cliff that had been obstructed from shoreline view by the mist. This cliff, however, had a marked entrance. Dennis could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He remembered Billy’s rabbit swinging from the abandoned rafters up in the attic.

“You’re very lucky, the two of you,” Tom said. “I thought we were going to end here, but our adventure continues. Would you like to come and explore that cave with me?”

Amy’s body twitched violently and she began to shudder. Dennis understood perfectly what she was feeling, knowing that within any moment they would both find themselves trapped in this remote, dark cave far, far away from Mrs. Cole. And, sure enough, Dennis blinked through his tears and his vision was suddenly dimmed to greenish-black.

The cave was large, that much he could surmise. The three children stood on the only dry ground Dennis could see in the entire formation. Ahead of them the ground dipped into a lake that emitted a ghastly green glow. Dennis had never seen anything like it; nor had Tom, it appeared, for in the reflection of the greenish mist Dennis could see Tom regarding the water with a most intrigued expression.

Tom walked forward and thus Amy and Dennis followed, and then they saw propped up against the cave wall near the edge of the lake a mound of rotting flesh and bright white bone. Amy’s screams pierced through the air, reaching a pitch with which Tom appeared to finally take issue.

“Quiet!” he snarled. “One more time and I’ll drown you, little girl.”

Amy’s screams ceased immediately. There was a poignant silence as Tom began to inspect the edge of the lake. Dennis did not dare to move in the slightest despite even the deep chill he felt from the cold sea. Amy was as still as the corpse.

“You seem to have lost your earlier courage,” Tom murmured as he stared into the depths of the lake. He raised his head to stare at the two children, and Dennis moaned lowly at the feral look on the other boy’s face. Tom slowly rose to stand.

“You wanted to speak about dead people, Dennis,” Tom continued, “Well, there’s someone right there. Why don’t you go over and tell us what you have to say about him?”

Dennis stood frozen in his spot, blessedly absent of the compelling force from before.

“Nothing?” breathed Tom. “Go on, tell me how maybe he offed himself too. Maybe he took that boat here, just like we did, to die over here alone. What do you think about that?”

Dennis began to sob loudly in response. Tom did not react.

“You see, Dennis, I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, too,” Tom continued. Despite ostensibly speaking to the other boy, Tom’s soft voice was hardly audible above Dennis’ frightened wails. He began to pace ponderously up and down the perimeter of the lake.

“I can’t help but think there must be more to this than I can see. Death seems so finite, and yet Mrs. Cole tells me my mother died peacefully but that wretched rabbit clung to life so viciously that I had to snap its neck.”

Amy began to shudder violently. She opened her mouth with every attempt to scream for someone, anyone, but no sound could escape her, not even a squeak.

“How is it possible for a mere _animal_ to attempt to defy dying when my own mother refused to live? I want to understand, _Dennis_ , what makes dying so much better than being here with me? You seem to have all the answers, Bishop, so why don’t you tell me? TELL ME!” Tom screamed the last two words, reeling to face Dennis who simply wailed louder and dropped to his knees.

Tom watched Dennis with undisguised disgust for a moment before approaching. He towered above the kneeling boy and, voice returned to its natural low tone, hissed, “If you can’t tell me the answer, perhaps you can show me.”

Dennis felt himself rise and walk, step by step toward the lake. Amy quickly followed and Dennis could read her frantically mouthing the words _Stop, please stop!_ to no avail. He could feel the water from the lake seeping into his trainers as he approached the shore, colder than anything he had ever felt in his life and yet still not as cold as the look in Tom’s eyes.

He stood, now, knees deep in the emerald lake, unable to move his head which appeared to be locked firmly in place. Tom circled around and came to rest barely an inch behind him. There was a heavy pause of complete and absolute silence where Dennis could not hear the waves, Amy, or even his own thoughts.

And then, Tom whispered.

“Show me what death is.”

Dennis’ head plunged into icy water as sharp as a thousand knives and he watched his father smash an empty bottle into the kitchenwall while his mother stood by terrified, and he burst up for the air. Again he was submerged and this time for longer he saw his self watching his father beat his mother until she lay, unmoving and bleeding on the floor, and he tried to gather the courage to tell his father to leave her alone! but all that came out was the tiniest squeal and then his father rounded on him…

And for the third time Dennis rose above the water, gasping desperately for air and for the third time he sunk underwater and this time the vision did not appear and instead Dennis dimly noticed a set of strange objects piled at the bottom of the lake which must have been shallower than they had imagined. He squinted to see what they were in spite of everything and as his head was forced further and further down he finally recognized the bodies for what they were.

He thrashed wildly, his little chest heaving in horror and he jerked toward the surface of the lake. He could envision the Tom’s distorted image regarding him evenly and then the slightest twitch of his index finger as if to beckon. Dennis’s gaze dropped forward into abject black, unseeing eyes and he knew in that moment he had reached Hell.

* * *

 

Lord Voldemort stood thoughtfully over the still body of Lily Potter. The toddler sat in its crib facing him, tiny fists clenched, bawling determinedly. It was ironic, Voldemort thought wryly, that a memory involving death and despair would emerge just as he approached the threshold of his eternity. it was no matter, of course. He would never experience the limits of mortality as his mother did, as the Gaunts did, as those bodies did, as the Riddles did – he, alone, would perpetuate the Slytherin ambition because he, alone, could conquer death.

The Potter child hiccupped, drawing Voldemort out of his reverie. He regarded the infant coolly. Its cheeks were red and blotchy from crying incessantly, a stark contrast to his own chalklike pallor. He had seen many faces before their demise. Hundreds of wizards and witches pale with fear as they pointlessly begged for his mercy and yet this small child would glower at him as if in a state of childish defiance. It both amused and infuriated him.

Lord Voldemort slowly raised his arm and levelled his wand at the child’s forehead. Its eyes followed his movements. He paused, rapidly ensuring he had not missed any level of protection Dumbledore may have conferred upon the child. For a split second, the words Severus had repeated to him flitted in his mind:

_…power the Dark Lord knows not…_

Harry Potter’s bottom lip trembled as Amy Benson had trembled mutely begging him to stop and who really could challenge him at this, the moment of his glory?

He enunciated each syllable with feral voracity and the room flashed green and his vision flashed red and his world vanished to black.


End file.
